


Bar of Broken Hearts

by omikun (miyarin)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, In chapter 2, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character(s), Sexual Content, but you know, english is not my first language, its supposed to be a Christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29477706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyarin/pseuds/omikun
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi was never the type to get melancholy and go out to drown his sorrows and failures in a glass of drink. Yet that is exactly what he was doing.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. a shot of whiskey, please

The snow had given us a break that night. As cold as it was and even if a few flakes fell, it was possible to leave the house. The way to the only bar that he decided to open on Christmas night didn't take long, luckily it was only a fifteen-minute walk. He followed the white streets, his headset playing some of those underground bands he liked so much, humming the melody, a little distracted. The establishment was cozy, always with some live attraction, with predominant colors of brown and blue, to intensify all the sadness that resided there.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was never the type to get melancholy and go out to drown his sorrows and failures in a glass of drink. Yet that is exactly what he was doing.

On Christmas Eve, all his teammates went home to spend the holidays with their families. Exchanging gifts, love, and whatever else the holiday could enjoy. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, had no reason to go home and didn't want to, honestly. He preferred to walk to the bar and drink a little whiskey while listening to the live show of unknown singers that the place offered. A small smile broke out on Kiyoomi's lips when he heard the delicate voice of a girl singing about her broken heart, thinking that even with the sadness of the lyrics, the girl is very talented. His eyes roamed the warm, alcohol-scented place, observing several lonely people, like himself. But one, in particular, caught his attention.

Sitting at the counter with a half-empty glass of beer, the man had golden hair. His right elbow was resting on the counter and his hand inside his hair as if he was thinking about something or someone. The barman was in front of him, working on some customer's request, sometimes saying something to the man, or simply filling his glass with beer. And before he knew it, Sakusa sat down on the stool beside him, after having taken off the heavy coat he was wearing, keeping only the jacket that had been a gift from his cousin. Komori had invited him to spend the holidays, but Sakusa refused. 

He preferred to be alone.

— Whiskey, please. - he asked the bartender and got a nod, with a slight smile filled with empathy for the lonely situation.

The singer had started another song just as melancholy as the previous one, and Sakusa sighed, watching her performance. He didn't know her, but it seemed she was more emotional than she should be. Her eyes displayed a confused feeling of spite, anger, and sadness that Kiyoomi understood well. The drink was delivered by the bartender and after thanking him, he took a long sip for some unknown reason. Perhaps the desperate urge to go numb and forget how much it hurt to be alone, though he preferred it that way. 

A sigh escaped him before he heard the man's voice next to him.

— Your melancholy is palpable. - Sakusa turned to him, who was twirling a pen between his fingers and staring at a small notebook that had a few loose words and disconnected sentences on it. - Shall I accompany you on this lonely road? 

Finally, he turned around. The deep brown eyes stared at him curiously, and he had a small smile on his handsome lips. Sakusa arched an eyebrow, confused, but liking this strange approach because he felt attracted to this stranger immediately. Then he returned the smile as if answering the question.

— It would be an honor. - he commented casually before drinking the rest of the whiskey. He ordered another shot of the drink. - What should I call you?

He wasn't usually so receptive to strangers. Perhaps he was a little desperate for affection, despite his stubbornness.

— Miya Atsumu. - he dropped his pen on the counter and took a long swig of beer. - And you? What do I call you?

— Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

— Sakusa. Kiyoomi. - he repeated, slowly, seeming to try out the name with his tongue. - Omi. 

Then he smiled. A little more to himself than to his companion. Sakusa watched with a certain curiosity. 

— Why so lonely on Christmas Eve, Omi-kun?

Sakusa liked how his name, that sudden stupid nickname, sounded in Miya's voice. He would keep that secret with himself. _For now._

— Ah, well, I just... prefer to be alone. 

Atsumu rested his glass of beer and stared deeply at Kiyoomi. They say that the eyes are the mirror of the soul, and Sakusa was sure of it because he could decipher the doubt in his eyes reflecting her own.

— Liar. - Miya smiled, this time with a boldness that surprised Sakusa. - But I can't judge, I also prefer to be alone. 

— Then you are as much of a liar as I am, Atsumu. - Kiyoomi smiled, watching him nod. 

They both took another sip of their respective drinks.

— I just don't have a good reason to go home, so I preferred to spend Christmas drowning my loneliness in alcohol. - The naturalness with which the words came startled Sakusa, but since they were a pure truth, he didn't even mind. Much less to expose himself to a stranger whose name is her only information.

_It's the alcohol's fault._ That's what he is telling himself, even though he is on his third dose. 

— I share the same situation. And also this place inspires me. Here is a stage for broken hearts. - Miya told. - Today the singer is more emotional than usual. Alisa broke up with her girlfriend a few days ago. A pity.

Sakusa watched this Alisa. She looked like she was going to collapse at any moment. But she stood firm, pouring melodies into the microphone.

— That one there. - Atsumu pointed to a man with dark hair, as opaque as his sky-blue gaze stuck to his notebook screen, writing fervently. He was drinking pure vodka and fixing his glasses on his face. - A writer. He comes here almost every night since her husband died.

— How do you know so much about them? - Sakusa asked.

— I watch them carefully. Look at the writer. He has two rings on his left ring, and he always plays with them. When he does, he has a distant look, as if he misses someone. He refuses all the advances he gets, with the excuse that he is married, when in fact he is a widower. - Miya continued, with a melancholic look. - The bartender likes him. But he has been rejected several times.

— Hey, Atsumu, stop exposing me to my customer or I'll charge extra for beer.

— Sorry, Suna. No extra charge, please. - Sakusa thought it was funny and couldn't help but smile slightly.

The bartender rolled his eyes and walked to the writer's table, taking the bottle of vodka, asking if he would like more. The writer nodded and asked to leave the bottle there. 

— Are you sure, Akaashi? - Suna was afraid because he knew where this was going. Keiji nodded, to the bartender's unhappiness, and the bottle was left there.

— Today is one of Keiji-kun's bad days. - Atsumu commented, intensifying Sakusa's curiosity to know what would happen. - On those days, he drinks more than he should and only leaves when Suna takes him home. 

— It's hard to lose someone you love. - Sakusa commented with certain knowledge, finally turning over all his whiskey. 

Silence settled between the two. They went back to watching the other broken hearts in the room accompanied by whiskey, beer, and the mutual companionship of two lonely people. Atsumu, now and then, wrote in his notebook next to Sakusa's gaze, witnessing his every move. Miya has very beautiful striking features, which Sakusa could spend several pairs of hours gazing at and discovering. His lower lip was bitten when he thought a lot about something. A very handsome man that Sakusa had the pleasure to meet. He just hoped for a chance to delve deeper into what was being built on a freezing night.

— You are a good observer. - Sakusa said, after seconds, minutes or hours. He had no idea, both because of the drink and because Miya himself was dulling his senses. - Watch me. What do you say about me?

Atsumu turned his gaze to Sakusa. 

Kiyoomi had a look filled with melancholy, regret, longing, weariness, and hope. Hidden under a false indifference. Such a handsome man and so burdened. Atsumu felt a sudden urge to hug him and tell him that everything would be all right. 

— You are tired. You didn't want to be here, you wanted to go home. But you can't go home. - Miya murmured, uncertain. Sakusa nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. - Do you want to talk about it, Omi-kun?

— No. I'll kill the chances I might have with you. - Sakusa smiled, slyly, and got up from the bench. From his wallet, he withdrew the money to pay his bill, with tips for Suna. Then he took the pen and pad from Atsumu and wrote his phone number on it. - Merry Christmas, Miya Atsumu.

Sakusa walked over to where his coat was, feeling anxious about that boldness he didn't usually have. He had the impression that when it came to Miya and alcohol, there were no limits for him. Least of all for him.

— Wait! - Atsumu followed him and stopped in front of him, watching him put on his heavy coat. Sakusa didn't let the few inches of height pass by. - Shall we see each other again, Omi-kun?

Sakusa smiled. His fingers, shy and distracted, in a caress on Atsumu's cheek.

— I'll be here on New Year's Eve. - This time it was Atsumu who smiled. Even more so when Sakusa approached his face to leave a timid seal on his lips, as light as a sigh.

— So, I'll be waiting for you, Omi-kun.


	2. poetry and cliché

— I didn't think you would come today.

  
  


Sakusa's distinctive aroma was the first thing he scent. After that, what came was his closeness and a smile just for him. The poet smirked, slightly, watching him sit down on the same bench as last week. Next to him, he ordered the same drink as last week, as did he. He felt like he was in a déjà vu.

In the interval between Christmas and New Year's, in one week, they had already had as many conversations as it was possible to have on his lonely nights. They talked about useless things, shameful experiences, and adult life preferences. He found out that Sakusa liked to cook, appreciated the taste of good wine, had a dog, and also learned that he didn't like spicy food. In return, he told him that he worked with poetry, enjoyed good jazz, and loved variety shows. 

One night Atsumu called Kiyoomi, with the excuse that he was too lonely and wanted to hear the other's voice. Sakusa had giggled at the excuse (Atsumu had to control his heart rate at this point) and asked how his day had been, genuinely concerned. The boys only realized how much they had talked when they felt the first rays of sunlight touch their faces. They both said goodbye, in howling voices, tired and never regretting that they had dedicated the early morning hours to each other.

— I told you I would come. Why did you think that? - Sakusa drank the whiskey as soon as Atsumu poured it for him. 

Miya smiled and before answering, took the rest of his beer. 

— I just... never mind. I have tendencies to be paranoid. - Sakusa beamed and something caught the poet's eye.

That night, the athlete's gaze was not filled with melancholy. What he found in the dark eyes was a restrained, shy joy, and a desire that he shared in the same intensity. By the end of the nighttime, they both knew they would be each other. It was only a step to be taken. A melody brought him out of those thoughts, and Atsumu saw Alisa on the stage with her, until then, ex-girlfriend. Sakusa took all his drink and ordered another. He didn't feel he needed her to do anything, but the familiarity and warmth were welcome.

— What brought you to this town, Atsumu? - he asked as he watched Suna fill his glass with a new shot.

Miya closed the small notebook full of scribbles and put it back in the inside pocket of his overcoat, next to his pen. He required Rintaro for another beer before replying.

— A book. 

— A book? - Sakusa looked at him, curious.

— A book. - Atsumu smiled, after swallowing his drink. - I came here to write a book, but I liked the city so much that I decided to move here. But that was some years ago. The correct question is, what brought you to this town, Sakusa Kiyoomi?

Sakusa continued to stare into Atsumu's beautiful eyes, really trying to decipher what was going on in his head. 

— Would it be cliché to say it was because of a broken heart?

Kiyoomi asked. And Atsumu smirked, enigmatically.

— You're already a big cliché, Omi-kun. 

Sakusa smiled at the answer and busied herself with finishing more of that shot of whiskey. The alcohol ripped through his throat, a sensation he liked to feel. 

— Omi-kun, let's dance. - It wasn't a request.

— I don't know how to dance, Atsumu. - the athlete replied, staring at him with his eyebrows almost together, and this made the poet smile. He took his hand and pulled him into the space that was occupied by a few other dancing couples. 

— Nonsense, just follow me. - Atsumu put his free hand on Kiyoomi's shoulder after taking his hand around her waist. They began to move together, one back and one forth. - See, it's not hard.

Sakusa didn't answer with words, but with a lovely smile that made Miya's heart all warm. A feeling that he hadn't felt for so long was almost new to him. The melody was quiet and exalted Alisa's voice. The lyrics caught Atsumu's attention. 

  
  
  


_ Don't come to me, don't come. Don't cross the line, please _

_ Don't make me drink, don't make me drink. If I drink, I can try to make us work. _

  
  


— I should listen to Alisa. - Surprising Atsumu, who commented on this was Sakusa. - You're advising me not to fall for your advice. Only, unfortunately, I already have. 

Atsumu stared at him, both of them very close and their heavy breathing mingling. Then he laid his head on the athlete's broad shoulder, enjoying the simple one-on-one dance and his company. Sakusa's words hammered in his mind, as if they were his own. The athlete is passionate from the moment you lay eyes on him. Everything attracted him in an almost magnetic way, Atsumu wanted because he wanted and needed to know more about Sakusa and everything he hid or left apparent. A poetry to be interpreted, that's what that man is, and Atsumu, like a good poet, accepted him for his repertoire. And that strange feeling of curiosity mixed with desire was shared with the other. Sakusa had been intrigued by Atsumu ever since he saw him, with a thoughtful scowl and pen on his lips, in that very bar. He wanted to know everything about the poet, including his feelings. 

The first step came from Miya Atsumu.

The poet lifted his head again from Sakusa's shoulder and stared at him, intensely and deeply. He wanted to say several things, and he didn't need to. Kiyoomi smiled, as if to say yes to whatever madness the other would do, and then the first step was taken. The general's lips were as delicious as the taste of alcohol there. Sakusa didn't let that simple seal remain just a seal. He turned the simple contact into something charged with desire and passion, as if he was wanting more than Atsumu's lips; which was true. He wanted her lips and so much more. Touches, hugs, and his body. I wanted Atsumu. And Atsumu wanted Sakusa.

Don't offer me a drink, it will only bring regrets.

Don't give me courage, I know it will only last for a day.

The song went on, with the singer begging her not to give him courage because she would regret that love with an expiration date, and Sakusa wondered if Atsumu would do that. She didn't know him well enough, even though she felt otherwise, and that made her a little afraid. She moved her lips away from Atsumu's, but not the desire for something more. And the reciprocity was mutually developed with accomplice smiles and discreet teasing. Kiyoomi used to throw himself headlong into relationships he appeared to be in love with, but here's a fact about Sakusa Kiyoomi: he fell in love too easily and too fast. 

And he only hoped that Miya Atsumu would have mercy on his broken heart.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The fire in the fireplace crackled lazily, warming the bodies that were about to become one. The controlled flames were most welcome to warm and illuminate their surroundings. The snow was falling outside, mercilessly, preventing anyone from leaving their homes. And well, for the lovers that night, it wouldn't make any difference since they didn't want to be anywhere else but in each other's arms. 

Their bodies became one in a linear syntony, in a melody that they both composed, played, and dictated.

The kisses were passionate, intense, and absolute. The touches were warm, possessive, and at the same time delicate. The sensations were five times more impetuous, results of a time conserving the desire to feel each other, completely. Need to be prevailed between them, being extinguished little by little with passion and affection. The balance was communicated by glances, rarely broken, and one faced the other with the same mixture of emotions. 

The gaze was only lost when they consummated the act for good, which made them one. The athlete had his fingers entwined in the poet's strands as he sheltered him inside himself. His exposed neck was the target of sweet kisses that sought to distract us from a pain we had not felt for a long time. The painful invasion soon turned into the purest delight. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi was euphoric to become Miya Atsumu's, completely, and he, in turn, euphoric to make her his.

Even though it was freezing outside, the living room of Atsumu's small apartment was on fire. Not because of the burning fireplace, it helped the heat, but because of the passionate flame that had been trying to be lit since Christmas Eve; today, in the vicinity of a new year, it was almost a fire.

Sakusa was sitting on Atsumu's hip, and he was inside. In a form of unloading the pleasure he felt, she had put his fingers between the poet's long, soft strands and let the moan escape, his head hanging back slightly. His neck was completely exposed to Atsumu's thirsty mouth. It wasn't long before he could move, and when he did, it was unheard of. 

The athlete left his eyes closed, stunned by the momentum of everything the poet was making him feel. Intoxicated by pure appetite and voluptuousness, they let the movements go faster and faster, having his hands squeezing her waist forcing him to go at the pace he wanted while feeling their sighs getting more and more breathless. 

The hitherto silent environment was now filled with the symphony of their bodies colliding, their moans, and heavy breathing; their soundtrack was written with chords of eroticism and notes of lust. Words laden with malice were spoken over and over again, uttered between gasps. Atsumu's hands explored every detail of the other's body, seeking to give him all the pleasure and discover his weak points. He wanted more of what was being provided to him, he was overjoyed to have him completely. 

Sakusa let his teeth hurt the other's skin as soon as he felt his body trembling, forced more contact with the other's hands on his sensitive spot, while the movements became slower and more precise, making him feel tasty torture letting him get slicker. When he opened his eyes he saw Atsumu's lust-filled gaze and his mischievous grin playing on his red lips, the result of the ardent kisses exchanged by both of them. 

The groans were lost in the crackling of the fireplace flames, just as the finality had its cue. The athlete collapsed right there in the poet's lap, like rhyme at its end. Deep breathing, searching for the lost breath between kisses, and after a pleasurable movement, Atsumu also crumbled into Sakusa. The lovers shared a tired but at the same time invigorated look. Atsumu let himself fall to the floor of his living room, warm from the proximity of the fireplace, and Sakusa fell beside him. Both tired from the effort and the athlete even more tired from his ride. Heavy breathing was a melody in the room next to the crackling of the flames. And after this moment to catch his breath, Atsumu snuggled into Sakusa, putting his head on his chest. Sakusa, in turn, wrapped him in an embrace, a little clumsy but very warm. A smile escaped his mouth, and he stared at the poet.

— What do you think of this cliché, Mr. Miya? Is it good enough for your verses?

— Most certainly, Mr. Sakusa. - Atsumu smiled, his fingers moving to the other's cheek and caressing it.

With his free hand, Kiyoomi held the one caressing his cheek and kissed it, his gaze deeply intrigued by the other being directed at him.

— Good, because I intend to continue being your poetry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IB6kViGA3rY

**Author's Note:**

> hello. this is kinda old omg hope you guys like it
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!!
> 
> twt: @omiomikwn


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